


Synthetic Assassin: Part 7

by RieWiggles



Series: Stories of the Wastelanders: MacCready Arc [9]
Category: Fallout - Fandom, Fallout 4, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Assassin - Freeform, Commonwealth Minutemen, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, New California Republic, Romance, Smut, The Allegiance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-09 21:30:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14723925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RieWiggles/pseuds/RieWiggles
Summary: Nine years after Part 6. Charlie inherits the MacCready ranch in the past year, and has a child with Casian. After receiving a holotape from Duncan, who had returned to Texas with his wife and children a year prior, and after a small conversation with Shaun, Charlie prepares for a very long journey. She resorts to forming The Allegiance, a group of assassins who protect Minutemen goals, and who take out any extremists, Raiders, and other enemies.Too much lore, requires Parts 1-6.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I’m trying to fix things up to make this shit better, but in the meantime, my damn urge to keep typing up new shit is still in play. I would say I’m still rusty. I’m heckin’ rusty.**

* * *

 

**2318**

* * *

 

“Holotape for Rosebud MacCready!”

“Holotape for Rosebud MacCready! Is there anyone named ‘Rosebud MacCready’ in this settlement?”

A caravan made his way to Sanctuary Hills, his tired eyes scouting the populace with worry. A young, ginger woman, of an athletic build, and matted hair crazed in braids and dreads had approached the man. On her back was strapped an infant. His dark brown hair was flowing with hers. His wide blue eyes looked on to the tired, mangy man that his mother approached.

“I am Rosebud,” Charlie said silently.

Charlie MacCready looked just like her father by face, her mother by complexion and color. Her almond eyes, alert and dangerous, scanned the courier. Her curved nose sniffed, as her puckered, pursed, and thin lips followed in unison, to suck up the air. Her freckles were speckled across her rosy skin, reaching around her eyes, almost like a raccoon’s mask, her nose and chin. Her calloused hands reached out to grab the tape.

“The sender had requested a password.”

_Duncan. Of course._

Charlie sighed. Her brother’s passwords were always the same.

“MiKayla.”

The man looked down at some smudged writing on his hand.

“Here you go, ma’am.”

* * *

 

Charlie made her way into the empty, large house built by her parents. They were mercenaries, but after the house was built, they became farmers. Outside the windows to the back was a ranch, perhaps the largest in Sanctuary Hills. Looking out those windows was a tall man in a trench coat. His suit was botched underneath, but still suited him well. His soft face made Charlie smile. Her husband turned to her with solemn eyes, as she approached him. The ginger removed the child from her back, before handing him to her husband.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

She sighed. She was.

“I have to make a stop in Texas before I do. Duncan had something for me.”

“I can go with-”

“Someone has to stay with the farm.”

His hoarse voice was pained. His light, rosy lips hung open, the corners facing down. It was a frown that hurt Charlie. His closed-set blue eyes looked agonized. His brown hair flew with the small fan that faced their direction.

Charlie wrapped her arms around her husband. He returned it, feeling a lump in his throat, and a stabbing in his heart.

“I’ll be back, Casian. Please, just be patient with me. Your brother is here to help.”

“I know he is. I just don’t know about your mission. I don’t-”

“He asked me for a reason.”

Charlie planted her lips to Cas’. They had almost forgot that one was holding the baby.

“What about Robert?”

The infant tugged at his mother’s braids. He shared his mother’s facial features, evidenced by the worn-out baby photos, of low quality, taken with the finest found camera in the wasteland. His hair was dark like his fathers, but he shared those beautiful blue eyes that he inherited from both his parents.

* * *

 

The rain poured over the graves of Charlie’s parents. Although the dirt had dried, from a year prior, the brownish-green grass hadn’t grown in yet, which made the graves look fresher than they truly were. Over them were wood pieces, carved to the closest of who they were. Charlie’s hood obscured her face, as she stood over her parents. The ginger made her way to her horse, before getting on. Casian held Robert in his arms.

“Charlie, I find discomfort in your leaving.”

The ginger approached the synth, grabbing his hand.

“I have work to do, Cas. I’ll be back before you know it.”

She got up on a two-headed horse. She checked her belongings to verify everything was where it was supposed to be. Charlie looked down to Casian, reaching for his hand. She then bent forward to touch her daughter’s cheeks.

“Just take care of the farm for me.”

Charlie kicked the radhorse. It navigated to the Southern entrance. She turned around to Sanctuary, with a tear falling down her cheek, as she made her way out of Sanctuary. She turned around, a pain in her heart. She knew it would be a very long time before she could make her way back home.

* * *

 

Charlie rode South, passing Fusion City, and beyond. When she made her way to Foxborough, before checking her supplies again. Just before continuing on, a group of worn-out folk approached her.

“Lovely horse you got there,” one said, in a thick Boston accent. He looked rather hungry. There seemed to be too many to ride through, as they were carrying gear themselves. Charlie kept her composure, and got off. Her hood violently moved with the wind, as her slightly hunched figure approached one of the raiders. Her hand moved towards his neck, before the other raiders realized what happened. They hadn’t seen a blade like she was carrying before, one hidden in her hood. She twirled around the corpse, before taking advantage of it as a shield. Shots were fired towards it, as she grabbed a pistol from the corpse’s holster. She felt time slow down as she aimed towards the four other raiders. The world was turning orange. As soon as she fired, the raiders fell to the ground, as she twirled the pipe pistol with her fingers. After counting how many bullets were left, she disposed the weapon, before looting the other corpses. Before getting back on the horse, Charlie then reached into her bag. She pulled out a small flask, before dumping a few drops onto her hands. It was snake oil. She rubbed her hands together, before patting her cheeks. Charlie got back on the horse, feeling her eyes ease back into focus. She rode on.

* * *

 

As Charlie sat in a small, abandoned, and torn-up shack, she looked down to the Pip-Pad passed down to her. She turned it on, before inserting the holotape. She sat back, as it started. Duncan still sounded just like Dad. It hurt to hear his voice.

“Hi, Charlie. I’m sorry I left after Mom and Dad died. I’m sorry I haven’t written any letters or sent any tapes to you.”

“Of course not,” she spoke as her brother sighed in the tape.

“You know, it’s just hard. I know it is. To grow up knowing the people who made you. Well, in my case, just Dad. I know you never knew Lucy. I never did either. I just knew ‘Mom.’ And she was always ‘Mom’ to me. For you, that was different. But it didn’t feel different. Just, the whole fact that they were gone so quickly, I had to leave.” He sighed again.

“I know we should have prepared for it. Mom’s condition got worse. Dad… he just got sick. He fought just to stay around for Mom, but it was still too much. We should’ve just prepared to say goodbye, and we didn’t. We kept living as if we were comfortable. I can’t live with that, Charlie. But I have no choice. I have to keep going for my girls, and especially for you and Casian.”

There was a whinny in the background.

“I’m sorry I didn’t stay around while you had the baby. What did you name him or her? I can’t wait to hear back. Hopefully I will see you again someday. I hope to see you with your family. I hope you kept the farm going. It’s hard to be two places, especially so far away, and… especially in the Wasteland. Boston is comfortable. The rest of us aren’t. It’s still a fight like the old days with us.”

Charlie tilted her head back. She started to tear up. She looked up, before closing her eyes.

“Charlie, just know that I love you. I can’t come back to Boston for awhile, but I hope you’re doing alright.”

There was a small static and then a high-pitched voice.

“What are you doing, Daddy?”

“Kayla, say hi on the holotape for Auntie Charlie!”

“Hi!”

Charlie gave a small laugh at the sound of her niece’s voice.

“Kayla still remembers you. She can’t wait to see you again. Amber can’t wait to cook you and Dad’s favorite Brahmin steak either. See you soon!”

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: I’m trying to fix things up to make this shit better, but in the meantime, my damn urge to keep typing up new shit is still in play. I would say I’m still rusty. I’m heckin’ rusty.**

* * *

******2318**

* * *

 

The humidity was overwhelming. Charlie wiped her forehead as the sweat dropped to her eyelashes. Her hood stuck to the back of her neck as it drenched with salted water. She gave a bit of her water to the radhorse, who needed it desperately. In the horizon looked like odd structures at play, which she couldn’t even put an eye to what they were. The ginger approached the entrance of the park, before getting a glimpse of the sign.

“Nuka Town, USA.”

Charlie read it to herself as she stepped off the horse. Through the gates were occupants eager to trade. The park was infested. Her curiosity got the best of her as she entered the market. The horse remained by her side, one head looking at passerby, the other nudging the back of her hood. Charlie looked onwards to an upcoming young man, his smile wide.

“Never seen you in these parts before,” he said.

She didn’t answer. The synth moved onwards until he stopped her.

“You look familiar,” he said again. The young man looked under the hood, to see a freckled face looking the other way.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

“There’s no distinguishing me with someone else,” replied Charlie.

“No, I mean, you look just like him. I didn’t notice your ensemble, just your hood.”

The ginger removed the cloak from on top of her head, to reveal her braided, matted hair, which was put up in a bun. The man looked in his forties.

“I’m sorry. There was a family that liberated Nuka World years before. I was a slave who fought here.”

“Were you?”

Charlie escorted the horse, hoping to get away from the man as soon as possible. He paused, before he noticed they were moving away.

“Do you recognize the name, ‘MacCready?’”

She stopped. She froze.

_Mom and Dad were here?_

“There was a ginger woman, her hair color like yours. Her husband kind of had your face. Their son was a-”

Charlie turned around as the man gasped.

“My brother was a what?” she asked in a harsh tone.

* * *

 

Inside the basement under a stadium was a mess. It smelled of feces. Charlie gave a bitter expression.

“Your Mom told you about this place?”

“She did.” A small pause was in play until she asked his name.

“Bill.”

“Bill?”

“I know, I don’t look like a Bill.”

She begged to differ.

The man escorted her to the cages, where one looked as if it was meant to be surrounded in darkness.

“This is where we punished those who did us wrong. Those raider gangs. We won the battle but your parents left as it occurred,” he said as Charlie looked inside.

“Is this where you kept the leaders?”

“Yes. Only one is left.”

Bill opened the door. He looked to her before saying, with pleading eyes, “Please, I know the people aren’t happy to have her dead, but I know she is begging for it. Just put her out of her misery.”

Charlie looked to the darkness, before seeing a figure. He turned on a bulb. Her hair hung to the ground. It was grey. Her eyes were covered by a blindfold. Her wrinkles hung from her features.

“He’s right. Do it now.”

Charlie hesitated. She looked onto the old, frail woman. She then bent forward.

“I need to know what’s going on first,” she demanded.

“And who are you?”

“Who are you?” the ginger snapped back.

The woman sighed. She then held her hands out.

“Let me touch your face,” she said.

The synth was visibly creeped.

“Why?”

“To know who I am talking with.”

Charlie hesitated, before bending to the woman. She touched the blindfold, before tapping lightly.

“Very well,” the woman said. She wrapped her arms to the back of her head, before the piece of cloth fell from her eyes. Charlie backed away in horror. The sockets were hollow, almost looking burned. She saw the soft, red flesh protrude the overall look of the missing eyeballs.

“Come closer, Child.”

The uncomfortable synth bent forward, before the old woman began to caress her face. Her fingers traveled from Charlie’s jawline, and soon up her cheekbones.

“I know a MacCready face. You definitely have it.”

The woman then moved her fingers to Charlie’s nose. In the meantime, Charlie commentated:

“Charlie MacCready.”

“Mm.” The woman’s finger traced down the bridge of the synth’s nose, then to the nostrils.

“So you have your mother’s nose?”

As the finger traced down to Charlie’s pursed lips, she replied,

“I have my father’s face. My mother’s nose, hair, and freckles.”

“I know what you look like, now.” The woman said in a stern voice.

Charlie was sure after finding out she was a MacCready, that the woman was going to choke her. She felt it in the way the fingers traced her jawline. The woman’s fingers ran through the braided, matted hair that was pulled back into a bun.

“Do you shower regularly?”

“Does everyone in the Wasteland?”

A smirk curved to the corner of the woman’s lips.

“I can tell that you don’t brush your hair.”

“It’s a style I got going.”

The woman scoffed. She stood up, before grabbing the nearest stool to her. She then sat in it, but slowly eased in. Her body was very frail, very thin. Her hair dropped to the stool, as sections parted to the front of her body, soon covering her hair.

“Now may I ask your name?” Charlie said, stern, but polite.

The woman pulled her long hair back. She didn’t close her eyes, she didn’t need to. Nonetheless, Charlie knew that she was looked at, from the direction that the head was facing.

“My name is Mags Black.”

* * *

 


End file.
